The Hunted - The Rigs

They come with bows and arrows

They come with their swords drawn

They come with pistols at their sides

And torches lit with fire

They’re stormin' every castle

Hoping to steal our gold

We are the hunted

We are the chosen ones

We are the wanted

We are what they can’t touch

They stand with shaking fingers

They come with holy books

They are the coming darkness

We are the lightning strike

We are the love that burns the skies and fills your eyes with fire

We are the hunted

We are the chosen ones

We are the wanted

We are the burning sun

We are the hunted

We are the chosen ones

We are the wanted

We are what they can’t touch

We are the dream that you have when you sleep

That stays when you wake and turns all your colours grey

We are

We are the hunted

We are the chosen ones

We are the wanted

We are the burning sun

We are the hunted

We are the chosen ones

We are the wanted

We are what they can’t touch